I had the greatest den mothers when I was a cub scout. We made things, ate things, went places, and felt safe.

One day, my den mother came to my house. I don’t recall why she came, but she did. I wanted to show her around, including my room.

“Are you sure you want to take her in your room?” my mother said. “It’s a mess in there.”

“It’s okay,” I said to my unsuspecting mother. “Her whole house is a mess.”